Lured

He feasts himself upon her skin, mouth moving over the soft curves of her body.  

His hands enjoy the feel of silk as he digs his fingers into her flesh. 

Mouth devouring as he sinks his teeth into her. 

Loving the way her hips thrust upwards into his mouth.

The taste of her skin fills his mouth, harsher his fingers pulled at her skin. As he worked his mouth over the curve of her ass.  

Her scent fills his lungs, luring him deeper beneath her spell. 

Time will tell

Words
that touch the
heart
the mind
creating visions of
future times.
And while neither
can be totally
sure there

may indeed
be a whole
lot more!

And time
will tell, and time
will show
the reality of how
these things may
go. An existence
beyond
both screen
and wire
which will feed the
heat
and hearts’
desire.

And soon, dear boy,
a moment
will be

I’m sure.

To discover
whether there’s a
whole lot more.

But ‘til and beyond
a friendship grows

as secrets shared
as open hearts
lead to a flow
of thoughts
of words,
which engulf
and flood
feel and heal
and begins
to make this
virtual
real.

And words already
matched
with a voice,
a sigh,
a tut,
a laugh
and a “yes let’s try!”

And a moment will come
when a touch
can occur,
and be granted
with
a smile,
a raised eyebrow
a passing look,
a fleeting peck,

upon a cheek (or neck?)
a time
to come
face to face
communicating no
longer in
some virtual place.

And yes it could be
this
and that
and yes it could be
all you’ve
said,
and more.

And oh!

My goodness the
possibility
to be so much
more.

I’m sure!

But while it may be just the gist of the thing,
and tho’ both may be unsure,
time will show
and time will tell,
dear boy,
whether there can be a whole
lot more.

Let's

Let's get lost

in passionate kisses

and forget the

world amongst

lips and bodies.

Let's get lost

in burning lust

with bites and marks

strokes and smacks

caresses and slaps.

Let's get lost

in passionate desire

and drown out

the world

in fervour and fire

with paddle

and flogger

with clamps

and tawse,

with passion

and pain

let me be the cause

of marks upon

your skin

Let's get lost

Let's begin.

Words

Discharge your words

before my eyes.

Slowly trickle them

toward my ears, 
let them

gently flow 

into my heart.

Flood my soul

with your words

of truth.  Fuelling

fires in depths,

taking away 

my breath.

Empty out the

ocean of thoughts

that fills your mind,

your heart, your soul,

with things

not yet spoken.

Release the

floodgates of words,

of depth and of you.

Let them flow

over me, into me.

Flood me. Engulf me.

Images & Visions

My eyes paint images

I've not yet seen

of you.

My mind creates visions

I've not yet witnessed

of you wanting,

needing

bared and exposed.

And I think of all

the ways that I

want you and

with each new thought

the desire builds,

the wanting grows,

the longing aches.

Let us paint the images,

create the visions.

Let us share the desire

and wanting

and need.

Terminal Velocity

There was a death today.

I was already in my mourning

clothes:

tidy black shoes,

modest black dress,

purse filled with tissues.

Understated. Muted.

And in horror, I watched the

freefall to death. I

froze, unable to take my eyes

away from this tragic site.

I watched as

it reached

terminal velocity,

against a bright, sunny sky.

Painfully bright,

ironically sunny.

Achieving terminal velocity

and falling…

…falling…

…falling…

until after an eternity, after hitting the ground,

I saw it die.

"Let go"

"Let go" it cries,

wanting to be released.

Wanting to feel a freedom

of the world as it flies

on it’s own. Soaring above,

floating away.

But it's caught

between

here and there,

"Let go" it cries,

wanting to be released.

Wanting to feel a freedom

of a different direction,

a different path,
a new life.

There is no pulling it

back, as the string

is released, letting it go.

Floating...

Floating...

it floats beyond reach

with its own wishes
and hopes
and dreams.

Invitation

She was led on the bed propped up against pillows, leaning to one side, her head gently resting on her hand as she watched him standing by the side of the bed.  He stood there, slowly removing his clothes, his eyes not breaking the stare that she held him in.

There was an animal in both of their eyes.

Hers watching her prey, his watching her trying to decode the thoughts and images that were flashing before her eyes which had darkened with a lust and desire as she watched him strip.

He stood there, completely bared before her. 

She watched him,  studying his body closely. 

She took in the shape of his lips and wanted to devour him with her own.  Her eyes took in the shape of his neck and she wanted to kiss and bite him.  She took in the shape of his naked torso, his cock that was slowly beginning to betray his own body and his own desirous thoughts.  She looked at his face once more, smiling as he blushed, aware that she had read his thoughts without really knowing what they were and that she had seen the involuntary movements of his stiffening cock.

He waited until she beckoned him into bed.

There was always that moment.  The moment he waited for her command that he may join her.  He climbed on the bed slowly, crawling across the mattress on his knees, his balls and stiffening cock hanging down below him.  She took in the sight before her, her depraved and lascivious thoughts running through her mind as she watched him come closer.

He was co-operative prey. Her prey. 

And she was watching him, waiting for that moment when she would claim his mouth and his body with her own.  He blushed again as if embarrassed by his own thoughts and still she did not break his gaze.  There were no prudish thoughts here, there was no room for prissiness.  There were animals in their eyes. 

He reached out, stroking the side of her face as she leaned into his touch.  His hand reaching into her hair, gripping it tightly, pulling her closer to his mouth until she began to crush his lips against her own.  They kissed deeply, tongues probing and exploring and as a responsive, appreciative groan escaped from his lips it sent a shiver straight through her body to the depths of her.  The more their mouths explored, the more she longed for him, desired him, needed him, wanted him.  Pulling away slightly, she wiped the wetness from her lips, she felt free in her desires for him, he felt uninhibited by her gaze that fell upon him. 

Their faces only centimetres apart and she watched him still, his hand still gripping her hair as she moved her head slightly to feel the pressure of his fingers pulling on her hair, she breathed in deeply, her mouth open slightly needing to meet his own once more. 

And his cock is stiff, jutting out from his body and yet not quite close enough to be touching her, and she leaned back in for more, grabbing him, biting at his neck and shoulders, watching him flinch at the short sharp bites that left small red marks in a trail across his shoulders. 

Her mouth moved to his nipples, biting him hard as he flinched at the sudden sharpness of pain.  Her hand reaching up to touch his face, fingers tracing the line of his lips and his chin, still wet from their passionate embrace of moments before. 

And she began to devour him, aggressively, his own aggression and force meeting her own as he sunk his teeth into the depths of her neck her own appreciative groan escaping from her lips made his cock stiffen further. 

She leaned back, exposing herself to his mouth, to his unrelenting teeth and the sharp pain of flesh trapped between them as he started to bite her neck, her shoulders and down to her breasts.  Gripping them in his hands, the pain came over her in exquisite waves, from the point of contact from his mouth, down through her body to her cunt.  She could feel her own wetness growing with each contact his mouth made.

His finger nails clawed at her bare skin sending shivers down her body, goosebumps forming on her skin, peppering her arms and legs, the moans that escaped from her mouth spurred him on further.  His own hunger matching hers, his own aggression matching the building onslaught of hers.

Her hair still wrapped in his fist, his face still cupped in her hands, his mouth being assaulted with hers.  She wanted him, longed for him, she wanted him inside her.  Without loosening the hand in her hair he reached down between her legs and attacked her cunt.  Her juices enabling him to easily slide in a finger, then two, then three.  Fucking her with his fingers her body reacted pushing against him, wanting him to fill her deeper.  She wrapped herself around his shoulders and hung on to him.

She came hard.  Her body wracked with the orgasm that ripped through her body, soaking his fingers,  and as he pulled his glistening hand away, his face replaced the fingers that had been buried deep within her, his tongue delving deep, bringing her once again to the edge of ecstasy with his mouth sucking and biting and delving deep into her cunt.

She came hard again, more than once, more than twice, he was stealing her pleasure, taking her orgasms with his mouth.

The smell of sex filled the air, she was inviting him in deeper, drawing him closer, wanting him to ravage her with his mouth. 

And as he continued to steal the orgasms from her body, urged on by her reactions and the sounds that escaped from her lips, the juices surged from her into his mouth, over his face, she was lost to him in that moment.  She felt him taking her in, her wetness, the juices that he had brought from her, as she held him tightly.

She wanted him, and shamelessly opened herself to him, inviting him in.

He accepted her invitation.

Tears of remembrance

Tears of remembrance

roll streaks of blackness

down her face.

Smearing the memories and

pain onto a

canvas of pale skin.

A hand, a tissue, cannot wipe 

away the sadness or

memories that engulf.

She looks at the page before her,

no words of

sentimentality just a

reality of pain and sadness.

A silent tear freefalls

onto the journal notebook

that sits before her,

the place where she writes her

innermost thoughts

and depths and feelings.

A silent tear that smudges

the beautiful words she

has written.

Blurring them into 

streaks of

blackness which match the

canvas of her skin.

Tears of remembrance.

Of sadness.

Of loss.

As she searches for

words of harmony and

beauty,

of warmth,

of love.

Screw poetry!

"Screw poetry, it's you I want, your taste, rain on you, mouth on your skin."
Margaret Atwood

There are no poetic words waiting to spill all over the page.  There is no melodious soliloquy or discourse. 

There is no painting of aimless silhouette's on a naked canvas depicting an artistic longing.

Instead there is just the carnal and lascivious desires that are burning, that are longing, that are screaming for attention.  There is the ravenous hunger for sensual touch, your touch. 

Your fingers, your hands, your mouth over me, upon me, in me.

There is the rousing desires, of wants and needs. 

Screw the words, screw the poetry, screw the art upon bare canvas. 

Instead  I want you. 

Your hands, your mouth, your body touching mine.  Instead I want to touch you, to kiss you, to bite you and hurt you.  I want to breath you in, taste you, hold you.

There is no need for epodic rhyme. 

There is just a need for a moment.  A moment with you, with a mellifluous symphony of desirous worship.

You

I long to hold you in the darkness,

to remove your inhibitions
as easily as I remove your clothes
from your body
that is slowly revealed for

my eyes and my pleasure.
The softness of your skin is

contrasted by

the shortness of your breath
as I explore your sensuous flesh
with my gentle touch.
The hotter you become
the more you excite me.

As your eyes glaze over and roll

back in your head as I

tease you with my fingers and

your body pushes itself against

my hand and my mouth.
Involuntary motions of

passion & desires fulfilled.
As you moan softly

I feed at your neck hungrily,

nipping, biting,
lustful passions tasting

wonderful in my mouth.

Closer and deeper

I think about you

and want.

Want hand holding walks 

along the shore

as waves gently lap at our feet

Long lingering kisses curled

in front of the fire

on a cold winters night

Moments of closeness and

moments where words are not

needed as we are lost in close

silent thought.

I think about you

and want

to hear your words, your voice

as you share your inner thoughts,

and feelings and wants.

And yet I want

you

down on your knees before me

wrists behind your back

And I want to kiss you,

and  touch you and

bringing you closer.

Closer.

And I want

your deep probing

kisses, your tongue

tasting me everywhere.

Your tongue teasing,

delving, tasting as

my hands stroke

your head, touching you,

pulling you closer and

deeper.

Closer.

And deeper.

Wanting

My eyes closed
for but a moment
a dream?

a thought...?

a wish...?

or perhaps a desire...?

to touch you

to kiss you

to see you

before me

completely

bare and bared,

Completely.

a collar adorns

the neck

I want to kiss

to bite

and all my thoughts

wishes

desires and

dreams are unbidden.

They flood my

being

desiring and
needing.
Needing and

wanting.

Wanting.

© Kat

My words

My words

have come back to life since you, 

you see what I write
and I wonder if it means something

whether you understand what,

or who sits behind the written words

that sit in front of you.
I do not yet know how my words
are read by you or

what you may think of

the words that you see,
or if
and you my critic
are whom I care about

Wild places

The mind I love must have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two, a pool that nobody’s fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind.  Katherine Mansfield

I saw this.  It made me think of you. 

Of your mind.  Of where it goes. 
Of how I want to learn where it goes. 

However dark, however wild the places.

I want you to take me there.
I want to take you there. 
I want to go there with you.

Wherever it may go.

Exorcism

And now, to you, my passionately
beloved friend and sworn enemy,
I can turn and call
Farewell,
adieu,
bonanotte!
The words, however, are lost in my thought,
lost in the same place where
parasitic You hides. And, as we separate
and become…and become,
I want to say, perhaps,
“Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
And it is, yes. And it is a relief as well
For how did, why did,
I stumble upon you?
You, who knows me best for having
seen my worst. You crept so silently behind me,
but I always knew of Your presence-
although, I did deny You existed-
You crept so silently behind me
for many plagued years, enviously
eyeing my every move-awaiting eagerly Mistake.
You and I must no longer be. Salve.

Stay, I will leave.

Perfect was gone.

Perfect.

Standing there you looked perfect.  Too perfect for words.   

There was something about the way that you stood, the way that you were dressed, the suit, the tie, something that said perfection. 

My perfection.

I wanted to corrupt that perfection.

I wanted to corrupt you.

You watched the seductive play of my eyes, trying to read the thoughts racing through my mind that came a reality from the smile that crept slowly over my lips. 

You knew.

You knew damn well what I wanted. 

What I needed. What I was going to take. You knew that I’d play by my own wants. My own needs.   

You knew it.

You’d always known it. 

My eyes focussed on you, my eyes drawn to the tensed muscles in your neck, and I wanted my mouth upon you, tasting you, biting you, running my tongue along where the crispness of your starched cotton shirt met the gentle warmth of your skin. 
 
Too perfect for words.

As lips teased the warmth of your neck my hand reaching to your tie. You wanted it knotted perfectly in place.

I wanted it gone. 
 
Hands moving over the coolness of the shirt, feeling the heat of your body underneath. You wanted your dress shirt perfect.

I wanted it gone.

As I raked teeth along the softness of your neck, your chin, lips gently touching yours, touching exposed flesh, wanting to devour you. 

Too perfect for words.  Too perfect.  

I wanted perfection gone.

I wanted to corrupt it.  I wanted to corrupt you.

Eyes shine with lust.  Tongues meet, whipping at each other.  No softness but strength and heat as teeth gnash as I take your mouth.  Hands working over your perfect dress shirt, removing it from its perfect tuck. 
 
You knew.

Perfect was gone.